


While you may

by StrictlyNoFrills



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Fíli Friday, Kili Tuesday, Oneshot, The oneshot tag turned out to be a lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrictlyNoFrills/pseuds/StrictlyNoFrills
Summary: Just a short piece set right before our favorite dwarves show up at Bag End.ETA: NOPE. I LIED.... or at least got it very, very wrong.So. New Summary: Kili is not, contrary to what the people back home might believe (and some of the people on this journey), a helpless idiot. He knows the odds.He also knows his duty, and he can't ever fully escape the deep-seeded longing for a home he has never seen that dwells in the hearts of all his people. He isgoingto Erebor, and he intends to make his ancestors proud along the way. But first, he's going to have a little fun.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Fíli, Fíli & Kíli, Kíli & ofc, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 63





	1. Close enough to rosebuds

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Darling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002162) by [LegolasLovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely). 



> Title is a reference to the poem by Robert Herrick.
> 
> So, over on Tumblr, a group of us are trying to get Kili Tuesday going. This is not, in any way, an indication that I will be posting a piece for Kili every Tuesday, but I thought I might as well contribute something for the inaugural Kili Tuesday.

Shortly after midday, Fili and Kili reached the inn where they were supposed to purchase food and other supplies for the Company, in addition to securing ponies they could ride at least as far as the Misty Mountains. Should the weather permit, they might even ride them all the way through Mirkwood, until they reached the outskirts of Lake-town and would be forced to set them loose. They had no way to transport them across the water, and even were that not the case, Erebor was no place for an innocent beast whilst Smaug squatted there like a cantankerous elder relative come to visit.

The front door to The Green Dragon stood propped open, singing and laughter drifting out to Kili’s ears and lifting his spirits. The journey from his last tour of caravan duty with Fili had been long and tedious, with several charges raising complaints about one thing or another almost every step of the way. It was a relief to think of a warm hearth, good ale, and a hearty meal enjoyed among such a jovial group as the hobbits seemed to be, in spite of the rather wary glances Fili and Kili received from some of the Shire’s residents on their way to the inn.

He glanced at his older brother, whose body language was loose and easy, save for the hilt of a throwing knife Kili could barely spot peeking out from the hem of Fili’s sleeve, concealed by his broad palm.

“You can put that away,” Kili said dryly. “I’m pretty sure this is the last place an assassin would hide.”

Fili lifted an ironical eyebrow and said, “All the more reason to expect them, then.”

Rolling his eyes, Kili shot his brother an exasperated grin. “You know, that attitude is the reason no one ever wants to court you.”

“You know,” Fili said mockingly, “I don’t care.”

Kili clapped his brother on the shoulder, taking care to avoid the spots where he knew, through trial and error over a period of decades, even more blades were hidden. “Tell you what: I’ll go in first, and if some lucky hobbit slits my throat, you can avenge me.”

“Ah, but who would avenge _me_ after Amad found out I let you get killed?” Fili asked, his tone lazy and insouciant, belying the genuine protectiveness and sincerity in his gaze.

As much as Kili might chafe at Fili’s overprotective nature at times, it warmed him to know how deeply and unconditionally he was loved.

He shook his head and then pushed some renegade locks out of his eyes – he’d need to tidy up a bit before they carried on to Mr. Boggins’s place. “Fine, then,” he said, huffing a soft laugh and moving to let Fili go first. “Age before beauty it is. Just try not to forget that I do actually know how to defend myself, and that you won’t be able to keep this up once we leave the Shire.”

“If you say so.” Fili proceeded Kili into The Green Dragon and approached the bar to order a couple of tankards of ale, whatever luncheon the inn had available, and to see about haggling for sixteen ponies.

Kili made for a table towards the back, nodding to the hobbits bold enough to raise their tankards or offer a small smile as he strode by, and ignoring the suspicious scowls of the others. He also gave no heed to the way the din of the pub lost a bit of its lustiness.

Hobbits were gentle-hearted folk, unlike many of the Men Kili had encountered, but they were also small and seemed largely defenseless. Perhaps, rather like Fili, they could be forgiven for an excess of caution when it came to those they did not already know as friends.

Not that Kili would ever tell Fili that. Justifying his brother’s paranoia for him sounded like a terrible idea.

He glanced over to where Fili’s golden head bent towards a darker one, with tight salt-and-pepper curls. Still haggling, then.

When he turned away, he found himself eye to eye with a pretty young lass bearing two frothy, almost overflowing tankards of ale. She beamed at him and set the drinks down smoothly, not spilling so much as a drop. Must be some type of hobbit magic at work. Kili hadn’t even realized she was there.

If all hobbits could move as stealthily and gracefully as she, perhaps they were not as defenseless as he thought.

He quirked a grin back at her and cautiously pulled the tankard on his side of the table closer to himself. “My thanks, Miss-?”

“Denny, short for Rhododendron, Mr-?”

Hiding a wince at such an unwieldy name – no wonder she shortened it – he replied, “Kili, short for absolutely nothing.”

Even as he lowered his lips towards the rim of the tankard, he held her light brown gaze, and he caught the pleased flush that came over her already rosy cheeks at his blatant flirtation. He sipped carefully at the delightfully cool ale and winked at Denny, enjoying the way she pursed her lips in a clear bid to hide a smile.

Once his drink no longer threatened to overflow, Kili raised it from the table and held it out towards her in a silent toast. “My thanks, Miss Denny. Would you care to sit with me while my brother is otherwise occupied?”

She pushed a runaway curl behind her pointed ear, and Kili found himself genuinely charmed at the sight. He had always thought he would find such ears strange, but they were, in truth, rather becoming, especially with the way the pale tip contrasted starkly with her rich, dark hair.

“I’d love to, but I believe your brother is just about done with my Da, and I’ve other patrons who’ll need topping up soon.”

Kili let out a slightly wistful sigh and nodded, smiling to reassure her that he truly wasn’t put out. “Of course. I’ll not keep you, then. I’ll just sit and enjoy this fine ale – and perhaps I’ll need a refill or two before the meal is done.”

Denny’s blush deepened, and she sketched a short, playful curtsy as she backed away from the table. “I look forward to it, Mr. Kili.”

“As do I.”

He took another sip of his drink and when he glanced over towards where he’d seen Fili last, he met his brother’s slightly harried gaze.

Kili shrugged. Was it his fault that ‘dams enjoyed his company?

…Alright, perhaps it was, to a degree. But none of the lasses he flirted with ever seemed to believe their encounters would lead to anything more serious, and so Kili couldn’t see the harm.

Especially today, of all days, as it was the last time he would have the chance for such things for Mahal knew how long.

Fili shook his great mane and smirked, stepping away from the bar and starting towards the table Kili had claimed.

“So,” Kili began lowly, once Fili slid into the seat across from his, “did Miss Denny’s father try to stab you? Slit your throat? Just how vicious was our hobbit innkeeper?”

Snorting, Fili kicked at Kili lightly under the table. Kili hid a wince for the second time that afternoon. Those steel-toed boots _hurt_.

“Mr. Cotton was perfectly agreeable. Though he might change his tune if he catches you at your usual nonsense with his daughter.”

“Please. As if I’d kiss some lass I’d only just met.”

Fili stared at him, unimpressed.

“Alright, perhaps I would. You know I’d never do anything to ruin a girl’s prospects, Fi. I just…”

“Wanted a bit of attention before our journey begins?” Fili asked, his tone shifting, his gaze growing more sympathetic.

“Aye.”

“Aye,” Fili echoed. “I know it. I just worry sometimes that what our people wouldn’t see as going too far will have you married at sword point to some Mannish or hobbit lass someday. Or Mahal forbid, an elf.”

Kili adopted a speculative air. “You know, an elleth might not be _so_ bad…”

“Don’t let any of the others hear you say anything like that,” Fili warned him, not sounding fooled in the least. “Especially not uncle.”

“Have a little more faith, brother,” Kili said, putting his hand to his chest and acting wounded.

Denny appeared at his shoulder, loaded tray in hand, and Kili turned the full force of his doe eyes upon her. Her eyes widened before she shook her surprise off and set about placing their meals upon the table. “Stop that. I have five younger brothers and three younger sisters. Puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.” Once she was finished setting out two bowls full of a thick, meaty stew, a loaf of bread, and a hunk of cheese before them, she pinned Kili with a sardonic look. “What brought that on, anyway?”

Kili heaved a put-upon sigh and slumped in his seat. “Nobody loves me. Nobody trusts me.”

“Mhmm. Tell you what: the lunch rush is almost over. Lose that pout, eat your stew, and in a little while, I’ll ask Farmer Carter’s boys over there to break out their instruments and play us something we can dance to.”

He reached out to take one of her hands in a gentle grip, lowering his head slowly whilst holding her gaze. Ever-so-lightly, he pressed his lips to the back of her work-roughened hand, loving the way the tips of her ears pinked. “It’s a deal.”

She huffed a soft laugh and then pulled her hand away to give him a light, playful swat on the shoulder. “Behave, or I’ll take it back.”

“And break my heart? Miss Denny, how could you?”

Sending him a saucy look over her shoulder as she turned away, she told him pertly, “With pleasure.”

Kili watched her go with a silly grin on his face and then turned to tuck into his stew with an anticipatory vigor. He was _going_ to have that dance.

About fifteen minutes later, a group of adolescent hobbit lads broke out instruments seemingly from nowhere and struck up a jolly tune, and Kili bowed extravagantly to an indulgent Denny, who dipped into a much more conservative curtsy before accepting his proffered hand. Then they took off together, spinning about a slightly clear spot on the inn floor under the watchful, amused eyes of his brother, and the tolerant gaze of Mr. Cotton.

If, many months later, Kili wished that he could have shared a similar dance with a tall, beautiful redhead just once as he lay upon the frozen ground of his people’s homeland, only Mahal would know.

(Six months after the Battle of Five Armies, once Kili had healed completely from his wounds and learned to compensate for the loss of one hand, he and Tauriel finally had that dance. It wasn't quite as raucous as the one he once shared with Denny, but it was full of even more joy, as Kili knew this was only the first of many.)


	2. An inauspicious beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili meet our burglar.
> 
> Um... Surprise? My oneshot has turned into another multichapter WIP?
> 
> I wasn't expecting it either.
> 
> Eheh. Happy Fili Friday!

Sensing the day slipping away from him, Kili bade Denny an overly theatrical farewell after their dancing was done and their account settled. She endured his pantomime with laughing good-humor, all while under the eyes of her only slightly put-out father, the good Mr. Cotton, who assured Fili and Kili that the ponies would be fully ready for them come eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.

Together, Fili and Kili set out on the last leg of the first part of this journey, the journey to their people’s homeland. The sun hung appreciably lower in the sky than it had when they arrived at The Green Dragon, and Kili was torn between eagerness over seeing the rest of the Company, and a vague hint of fear over what laid before him and his brother.

He studied his golden brother out of the corner of his eye as they walked down the tidy path that Mr. Cotton promised would lead them to Bag End, and noted that Fili was stressed enough for the both of them, which decided things. Kili would have to compensate for his brother’s worry by being excessively cheerful.

It was a state of affairs with which Kili was infinitely familiar, having experienced it many times over the years. Although Fili could cut up and be reckless like any other youth, he tended, more and more the older he grew, to focus more on his sense of duty, which meant it fell to Kili to try and lighten Fili up a bit.

“I see you’re not palming a knife this time, Fee. Not worried about our host?”

Fili shot him an unimpressed look before shaking his head. “Tharkûn may not have the best interests of the Khazad at heart with this scheme he’s talked Thorin into, but from what our uncle has said of the wizard, he does seem bent on the quest’s success. He would not choose a burglar if he believed the burglar would betray us.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?” Kili asked, turning his head to stare at Fili more fully. “You know, blonde, about yay high, decent enough to look at but nothing on me, sees enemies lurking around every corner?”

Fili shoved him lightly for his cheek. “Enemies _are_ lurking around every corner,” he said, though he was smiling as he did so.

“Ah, yes, of course. In fact, I think I see some right now.” Kili nodded towards a gaggle of tiny hobbit lads and lasses who would have been considered hardly older than pebbles back in Ered Luin. They were peering at Fili and Kili eagerly, as though expecting the two strange dwarves to give them a treat or to do something exciting.

Kili could see it the moment Fili decided not to disappoint those eight precious little pairs of eyes staring up at them, and he grinned to himself. Trust the Shire to be packed full of the only thing sure to get through every single one of Fili’s defenses. He fished into his pockets for the bright red apples Denny had given him right before he and Fili left the The Green Dragon and tossed them one after another towards his brother, who caught them only to send them flying into the air.

The hobbit children gasped and ooohed in delight as Fili juggled four apples as easily as he breathed, throwing in the odd trick or flare every so often to keep them on their toes. When they could hardly contain their enjoyment a moment longer and seemed ready to swarm Fili, he finished with a flourish, sending each apple into the waiting hands of a child. “Mind that you share with the others, now,” he admonished lightly, and to the last lad and lass, they nodded.

As they moved out of earshot, Kili said, “I was planning to eat those, you know.”

“Probably shouldn’t have given them to me, then,” Fili observed, his expression smooth but his eyes dancing.

Kili laughed, thrilled to see that their encounter with the little mob had done such wonders for Fili’s mood. “Come on. At this rate, we’ll be the last ones there.”

The deadpanned look Fili shot him told him what Fili was planning to say even before the words came out of his mouth. “No, we won’t. You _know_ we won’t. Thorin will.”

“All the more reason to hurry so the others don’t start getting the idea that we inherited uncle’s horrible sense of direction, isn’t it?”

Fili tipped his head with a small smile, acknowledging the point.

They made good time after that, and eventually they came to a rather impressively sprawling hobbit home, with an emerald green door which appealed to Kili’s dwarven sensibilities, and the mark declaring the owner a burglar looking for work.

Low grumbling reached their ears before the door opened in response to their knock.

“You must be Mr. Boggins,” Kili said brightly, hoping his enthusiasm would make up for any reserve on his brother’s part. Fili was not sour or sullen by any means, but he typically preferred to take the measure of people before he opened up to them, and self-proclaimed burglars would definitely be on that list. He and Fili bowed, giving their burglar their names. “At your service.”

“That would be _Miss_ _Baggins_ to you,” their host said as he and Fili straightened. She glanced at Fili and studied him for a long moment, her eyes widening appreciatively. “You, however, may call me Bilbo.”

Kili blinked before looking her over with new eyes.

It was true that her features were more delicate and feminine than those of the hobbit lads he had seen. More like Denny, though with a rather patrician quality that Denny lacked. Beneath the patchwork robe Miss Baggins wore at the moment, she might as well have been shapeless, but what little he could make out of her frame was tiny – almost elven – and she lacked the distinctive jut at the neck which indicated masculinity.

Later, he would admit that he sounded quite gormless when he said, “You’re a lass.”

Miss Baggins grew even more offended, rearing back and balling her hands into tiny fists. “Yes, of course, I’m a lass. Is there some reason I should not be?”

“You should be whatever you happen to be, Miss Baggins,” he said, careful to get her family name right this time. “I am just surprised Gandalf would suggest that we take a lass on such a dangerous quest, especially knowing how our people feel about women.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “How _do_ dwarves feel about women, then? And what quest? Dangerous? How dangerous? Gandalf said nothing about danger when he stopped by yesterday. Just some nonsense about an adventure. And just WHAT are four dwarves doing at my house? Not that I dislike visitors, mind,” she added, raising her hands as though to ward off even the implication that she might be averse to having company. “I’m a hobbit. We love having visitors. It’s just, usually we like to know when, and whom, and how many the party will be!”

By this time, poor Miss Baggins had managed to work herself into a bit of a state, and Kili worried that anything unexpected might push her into full-on histrionics or into some sort of fainting spell.

Hang that wizard! What had Tharkûn been thinking, allowing the Company to spring themselves upon a hobbit lass like this? And one who lived alone, from the looks of things.

Fili stepped forward into the house, taking Miss Baggins’s arm and lacing it through his own before patting her hand, which shocked Kili out of his steadily growing ire. “Come, Miss Baggins. Why don’t we have a seat somewhere comfortable and I can explain everything to you? Perhaps over a pipe? Or some wine, maybe? My brother can greet the rest of the Company, can’t you?” This last part he aimed in Kili’s direction.

“The _rest_ ,” Miss Baggins repeated weakly, now severely overwrought. “Just how many are coming?”

Kili and Fili both winced. Perhaps they should have seen her situated before revealing that there were even more unexpected guests set to arrive this evening.

Fili led her into the nearest room with a comfortable looking armchair and sat Miss Baggins down. Then he nodded to Kili. “Wine. Definitely wine.”

Kili nodded back. Right. Surely a cask of wine wouldn’t be too difficult to find in this place, would it?

Pulling herself out of her daze somewhat, Miss Baggins gestured in what was perhaps vaguely the right way and then rattled off a series of directions.

Kili set off and was proud to say that he only took two wrong turns before he reached the wine cellar. He found a cup conveniently placed by a barrel and poured a generous amount before heading back through the halls towards his brother and their reluctant host.

“Here, Miss Baggins,” he said, stepping close to her and kneeling down to press the cup into her hands. With some alarm, he noted that she was shaking. He glanced at his brother while he helped to steady her hands.

“Smaug,” Fili mouthed.

Ah. Yes, that would do it. Kili felt his hopes for the quest diminish somewhat. Tharkûn had insisted that he had the perfect burglar in mind. If this was his perfect burglar’s (entirely reasonable) reaction to merely hearing about stealing from the dragon, who could possibly expect her to actually do it?

She lifted the corners of her lips in gratitude and then took a few sips of the wine, dragging his attention back to the present. A few moments later, a bit of color returned to her cheeks.

“Sorry about going to pieces like this,” she apologized. “Normally I’m a good bit sturdier than this.”

“I’m sure it’s been a very strange evening for you,” Kili said, trying to be diplomatic, and genuinely feeling for this poor woman who must feel as though her home had been invaded – and this was only the beginning.

“It certainly is that,” Miss Baggins agreed, rueful gratitude plain in her soft voice.

Kili waited with her a little while longer, encouraging her to take a few more steadying drags before he let go of her hands and rose from his place at her feet.

He retreated to sit beside his brother until the next round of guests arrived, at which point he rose and greeted them as cheerfully as he could manage under the circumstances before warning them to be gentle with their host.

“She’s a bit delicate.”

“She?!”

_“Delicate?”_

Kili sighed. This promised to be a long evening.

Seriously, _hang_ that wizard.


	3. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fili Friday! (It still counts! It's still Fili Friday for a little while longer in some parts of the world. ;))
> 
> A burglar and a would-be king meet. It does not go half as well as Gandalf should have liked, and they liked it half as well as the meeting deserved... or something along those lines. :)
> 
> ETA: It's Kili Tuesday, and if you've read this chapter before, you may have noticed that it's a bit different than it was last time. Fear not, Kiliel fans - this is still a Kili/Tauriel story. Kili's allowed to have female friends. :)

After seeing an entire gaggle of dwarves fall in through her front door, nearly taking Kili, who had once again answered the door, down with them in the process, Miss Baggins rallied enough to throw together a hearty stew. She apologized to the dwarves who had dragged themselves up and dusted themselves off to gather in her dining room for not having enough time to cook it properly and gave Tharkûn, who had managed to escape the melee, a gimlet stare before turning once more to the matter of food.

She eyed the blades she could see on Fili’s person and asked, “Can you use a knife for more than stabbing things?”

Fili’s lips twitched. “I can use a knife for lots of things. What did you have in mind?”

“Normally I would never even think to ask such a thing, but, well, Gandalf did just spring you all on me.” She shot Gandalf another reproachful look. “Would you mind helping me chop up the vegetables for the stew? It’ll go much faster if there’s two sets of hands working.”

“How about three sets, then, Miss Baggins?” Bombur offered kindly, and she looked at him as though he had offered to hang the moon.

“Oh, would you, Master Bombur? That would be wonderful. Kili, you know where the pantry is now, don’t you? Please show the others. They might as well help themselves while the three of us are in the kitchen.”

With that, Miss Baggins, Fili, and Bombur disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Kili with the rest of their party. He shot Tharkûn a look of his own for good measure and then shoved his frustration away and smoothed his expression. Much as he might not like it at the moment, they needed the wizard. Especially if Miss Baggins was supposed to be their burglar.

* * *

Long after supper and desert (Where had those two strawberry cakes come from? Kili wondered. Miss Baggins had seemingly produced them out of thin air.), there came a firm knock at the front door, and the pleasant chatter which had been passing between those gathered in the parlor of Bag End came to an abrupt halt.

Kili turned to go answer the door only to be stopped by a delicate hand alighting upon his arm. “I’ll get that, Kili. You’ve done more than enough for me this evening. It’s high time I started acting like a proper hostess again.”

Opening his mouth to object, Kili underestimated how swiftly Miss Baggins could move, as she was already halfway to the front door before Kili realized she had taken off. Kili blinked and then took off after her, only to find that he was too late.

In the doorway stood Thorin, appearing even taller and more imposing next to the tiny figure of Miss Baggins than he normally did. As a small pebble, Kili used to believe Uncle Thorin was as tall as a mountain, and twice as strong. Even now, after reaching his majority, he could not shake that impression entirely, and if Thorin was a mountain, Miss Baggins was surely the smallest of hills.

“I was told I could find a Master Baggins here,” Thorin said, staring down at Miss Baggins with a face like the stone from whence Mahal had once carved him.

“Really?” Miss Baggins asked flatly. “Were those Gandalf’s exact words?”

“Do you find fault with them, madam?”

“Aside from the small matter of my being the only resident of this smial for the past twenty-nine years and very much not a ‘Master’ anything? None whatsoever. But please, do come in. The rest of your party is already gathered in my parlor.”

Before anything else could be said, Kili darted forward to stand beside Miss Baggins, hoping to head off the impending thunderclouds he could see gathering in his uncle’s sharp blue eyes. “Uncle, allow me to introduce you to our hostess, Miss Bilbo Baggins.”

Irritation at Tharkûn’s lack of candor warred with Thorin’s affection for his youngest nephew – Kili could see it all playing out in the minute changes to his uncle’s expression – until his joy at seeing his sister-son outweighed his disdain for the wizard’s schemes, and Thorin softened, stepping close enough to grasp Kili’s shoulders and lean down enough to touch his forehead to Kili’s own.

“Kili. It is good to see you.”

He pulled away from Kili and turned back to Miss Baggins. Then he offered her a slight dip of his head, which was generally as close to a bow as Thorin could reasonably be expected to come. He was, after all, regent and heir to the lost throne of Erebor.

“Thorin, son of Thrain,” he said. “I take it you are to be our burglar?”

“Only if you’re wanting me to steal mushrooms, Master Thorin,” Miss Baggins said, her tone mild. “Which Fili assures me is not the case. I’m afraid you’ve had a bit of a wasted trip. Still, there’s a hot bowl of stew and a slice of cake for you, and plenty of ale and wine still.”

For a moment, Kili thought perhaps that Thorin would elect to collect the rest of the Company and set out tonight, cutting their losses. He knew, though, that the memories of the many years their people spent wandering from place to place would push Thorin to stay. Tonight, they had a roof over their heads and sturdy walls around them, somewhere underground, no less, and no expectation of reimbursement hanging over them. This could, conceivably, be the last time they would have such an opportunity until they took back their homeland, and much the same way that Kili could not pass up the chance to dally with a beautiful young lass earlier in the day, Thorin could not give up the chance to see his people in safety and comfort. Achieving such things for the displaced children of Erebor had, after all, been his life’s work.

“Very well. Lead the way, Miss Baggins. And,” Thorin added belatedly, his tone begrudging, “…my thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Miss Baggins said, her only visible reaction to Thorin’s less than enthusiastic appreciation being her slightly raised eyebrows.

* * *

Hours later, after Thorin had eaten, requested a chance to speak with Tharkûn privately, though the request was ruined rather spectacularly by the impressive volume his voice reached when their discussion devolved into a shouting match that any dwarf would be proud to accomplish, and Miss Baggins had found everyone a comfortable place to bed down for the night, Kili laid next to his brother, staring up at the ceiling in one of the many guest rooms, his arms crossed behind his head upon the pillow.

“What are we going to do without a burglar, Fee?” he whispered. He thought back to the freedom and the ephemeral happiness he’d felt earlier in the day, dancing around the dining hall of the Green Dragon with Denny, before he’d discovered that their impossible journey was even more complicated than he had previously thought.

“I don’t know, Kee. I wish I did.”

Kili hated hearing his brother sounding so uncertain. It was unnatural. Fili always knew what to do, and if he didn’t, he had enough bravado to fake his way through a situation until he figured it out.

“Do you think that… _maybe_ , Miss Baggins will change her mind?”

He heard the soft rustling that signaled his brother was shaking his head where it lay upon his own pillow. “I don’t think so. I don’t want her to.”

“Fili?” he asked, surprised. Then he thought about how careful Fili had been with Miss Baggins earlier. How easily he had opened up to her. His brother could always be counted on to take care of those who needed him, but he still held himself back. He only trusted his heart to his family, choosing to show others his cocky, confident exterior without displaying any of the vulnerabilities which lay beneath the surface. Not so with Miss Baggins. “…I don’t want her to, either.”

Miss Baggins was small and gentle and generous and brave in her own, hobbitish way, firmly refusing to allow herself to be intimidated by Uncle Thorin, who had a reputation for leaving the most stalwart of dwarves trembling when he was in a temper, even though she had gone to pieces not too many hours earlier at the mere thought of having thirteen dwarves thrust upon her.

No, Kili did not want Miss Baggins to come. Not when there was every chance that she would never again return to the cheery halls of her cozy hobbit hole.

* * *

The next morning, Kili woke up after only managing a few hours if sleep, kept awake by thoughts of the many ways this quest could go wrong, and yet trying to tell himself that all hope was not lost. There were tales of heroes surviving against worse odds.

Then again, he didn’t feel like much of a hero.

Most days, he just felt like the strange second son, trying and mostly failing to carve out a path for himself. It was true that he had plenty of friends back in Ered Luin, and plenty of dams willing to hang off his arm for a time – far more than Fili, certainly – but they weren’t the kinds of friends Kili felt that he could depend on. They liked Kili because he knew how to have a good time. When his world in the tavern began to collide with his life as Thorin’s spare heir, he always felt as though those relationships were on shaky ground.

Whenever those moments crept up on him, Kili would take his bow and quiver of arrows and lose himself out in the wilds surrounding the settlement. He would come back with plenty of game for his family and for the veterans of Azanulbizar, and he was always hailed for his excellent hunting, but Kili knew better. He wasn’t doing it for the good of his people. He was doing it because there were days when hunting was the only thing that made Kili feel as though he fit in his own skin.

He and Fili dressed and gathered their things as quietly as they could, not wishing to disturb their hostess if they could avoid it.

Bombur threw together a quick, quiet breakfast, and then they were off, leaving the peaceful sanctuary of Bag End behind. They tromped over to the Green Dragon to collect the ponies and provisions Fili had secured yesterday, taking some time to familiarize themselves with their mounts and pack all their supplies away. Since they had an extra pony, they put the gentle beast to good use, purchasing a few extra supplies and storing them in packs upon the extra pony’s back.

As the ones who had been to the tavern before, Fili and Kili were sent in to speak to Mr. Cotton.

While Fili haggled once again with Mr. Cotton for more supplies, Kili slipped by them and went in search of Denny. He found her in the kitchen, loading a tray for one of the many hobbit meals – Miss Baggins had explained each of the seven meals hobbits preferred to take last night, to the astonishment of the Company. Kili thought it was probably for the best she had done so before Thorin arrived. No doubt his uncle would have been as irked by Tharkûn’s lack of information regarding their prospective burglar as Kili and Fili had been.

It was a good thing Miss Baggins had decided to stay behind, Kili told himself, though he thought he would have enjoyed having her along. Still, she would surely starve on the road, and they could not have that weighing on their consciences on top of leading her to face a dragon – something not even the wizard was willing to do.

Kili grinned as he remembered saying at one point last night that Tharkûn must have faced hundreds of dragons in his time. That had certainly put the wily old wizard on the spot. Fili had kicked at him lightly beneath the table, no doubt recognizing the overly guileless expression from many a prank Kili had pulled as a pebble.

“What are you grinning at? You look like the cat that’s got the cream,” Denny said, making a show of guarding her tray. “If you think you can charm your way into getting your hands on one of these pasties, you are sorely mistaken.”

Kili affected a wounded look. “I would never dream of such a thing – unless, of course, there’s a chance it might work.” He offered her his most winning look and watched as she rolled her eyes at him and smiled.

She straightened up, apparently deciding the pasties were safe enough from his scheming clutches, and wiped her hands on her apron. Then she put her hands on her hips, staring up at him with laughter and false recrimination in her eyes. “You, sir, are a scamp. You’re even worse than my little brothers.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I thought you might.”

“Am I so transparent?”

“In a word? Yes.”

He glanced away towards the direction he knew most of the Company waited, sobering. “Then I suppose you already know I’m off to do something dangerous.”

Denny softened, nodding her head. “You reminded me a bit of the younger Rangers who come through here now and then, looking for a bit of fun and some hardy hobbit ale before they go off and do – whatever it is they do when they’re not patrolling near the Shire.” She frowned for a moment, staring down at something Kili couldn’t see. “Sometimes they come back. Oftentimes they don’t.” She looked back up at him again, her brown eyes surprisingly piercing in a face generally given to good humor. “Something tells me you think you’ll be one of the latter. Why is that?”

Kili shook his head. It was tempting to open up to Denny. She was kind and a bit saucy and easy to talk to, and she was right – the odds were that he would never return. What could be the harm in opening up to a virtual stranger, if she was willing? But given their lack of numbers and burglars, secrecy was their one remaining weapon, and Kili would not be the one to throw that away. “I can’t tell you. I wish that I could.”

She eyed him carefully for a moment and then nodded. “I believe you.” She reached up into her hair, which had been tied back with several deep green ribbons, which brought out the red highlights in her brown curls. Pulling one free, she gestured towards his right wrist and wrapped it around a few times before tying it off.

“What’s this for?” he asked, running his fingers over the smooth fabric.

“For luck. And,” she added, examining it critically, “it’s green like growing things, so mayhap the Green Lady will see it and watch over you while you’re on your road. If it were a short trip, and I’d had a bit more warning, I would’ve woven you a bracelet or a necklace of burdock root sprigs, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t last, so this will have to do.”

“Burdock root sprigs?” he asked, confused and more than a bit touched. His left hand drifted towards the place where he kept his mother’s runestone. Now he had two talismans to ensure that he made it to the end of his journey.

“If you collect them under a waning moon, they’ll ward off evil intentions on the road.”

“You would do that for me?” Something in his chest twinged. What was it about these hobbit lasses? The short amount of time he had spent with Miss Baggins and with Denny meant more to him than the many long hours spent at the tavern with the dams in Ered Luin.

“Well, yes, but as I said, I didn’t have enough warning, so the ribbon it is.”

“It’s more than enough, Denny,” he said, staring down that the neatly tied ribbon. “Thank you.”

He could see that she was about to make light of her token or dismiss it in some way, and he stepped forward, taking her hands in his own. “Truly, Denny. It’s a wonderful gift, and I will treasure it always.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” she said, blushing slightly at such sincere praise but refusing to acknowledge it. She rose up onto the balls of her feet and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Be safe, Kili. And if you can, when you’ve finished with whatever it is you’re doing, will you write to me? Just to let me know that you’re alright?”

“I will.” He leaned down to hug her briefly, taking in her homey scent of fresh-baked bread and ale and young, green grass, and then he pulled away. “Goodbye, Denny.”

“Goodbye, Kili.”

He slipped back out of the kitchen and met up with Fili just as he finished closing the deal with Mr. Cotton, and together, they followed the owner of The Green Dragon and waited for him to pile their arms high with even more supplies.

Just as they finished loading up the extra pony and were preparing to make for the road, a tiny figure streaked up the hill.

“Wait! Wait for me! I’m coming with you!”

Miss Baggins, her wild auburn curls already escaping a hastily arranged bun, her patchwork robe exchanged for a sturdy working dress in an earthy red tone, with a set of trousers Kili could just make out underneath to preserve her modesty, raced towards the Company, closing the last few hundred feet between them even faster than she had anticipated Kili yesterday evening on the way to greet Thorin. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement and exertion, and her chest heaved with effort as she gasped for more air, but she gifted them all with an exhilarated grin as she held up what Kili assumed must be her copy of the contract. He wondered absently when Balin had given it to her, and felt a strange mix of disappointment and joy that she had decided to sign it and throw her lot in with them. He glanced at Fili, whose lips were pursed mulishly, and shot him a reassuring look. They would keep Miss Baggins safe. Somehow. 

“I’m coming with you,” she said again, this time with a calm certainty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fili opening his mouth to say something – likely some sort of objection – but Balin got there first, accepting the contract and eyeing it with a scrupulous eye before rolling it up and saying, “Welcome, lassie, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Great!” She glanced around at all of the ponies. “Ah, I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could just… walk along beside you lot, is there?”

“All the way to Erebor, Miss Baggins?” Thorin asked dryly. “I think not. Fili, Miss Baggins is your responsibility.”

She glanced up at Thorin, looking put out and slightly offended, and yet happy at the same time. Her cheeks had gained even more color, and Kili quirked an eyebrow at the sight. _Interesting_. He wondered if the favor she had shown Fili would survive after spending days in his company, as there was a certain degree of truth to the idea that familiarity bred contempt. Kili found himself hoping that it wouldn’t, in this case. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t have it,” Thorin told her, though he sounded mildly amused. “You heard me.”

Before she could say anything else, Fili said, “Yes, Thorin,” and dismounted. He walked over to Miss Baggins and led her over to his pony with his hand at the small of her back. He helped her up and saw that she was as comfortable as she could be, given that it was immediately obvious to everyone present that Miss Baggins had never ridden a pony a day in her life, and then he climbed up behind her, taking the reins.

Thorin cast his gaze over the Company, lingering doubtfully upon Miss Baggins for a moment, and then he nodded. “Let our journey begin.”


End file.
